You Leave and I Follow
by BlackEyedGirl
Summary: Merlin ran from Camelot months ago, after he was discovered, before they could execute him. Arthur has not forgiven him, and will have to kill him if he is found. It doesn't stop him chasing the rumours of sorcery up into the mountains. Merlin-Arthur-Gwen


**Title:** You Leave and I Follow  
**Fandom:** Merlin BBC  
**Characters/Pairings:** implied Merlin/Arthur and Arthur/Gwen but nothing said or done onscreen.  
**Rating:** PG-13 for some angst and violence.  
**Length:** 5,600 words  
**Disclaimer:** Belongs to the BBC  
**Spoilers:** Through 2.01: The Curse of Cornelius Sigan  
**Warnings:** Future character death (not Merlin or Arthur)  
**Summary:** Merlin ran from Camelot months ago, after he was discovered, before they could execute him. Arthur has not forgiven him, and will have to kill him if he is found. It doesn't stop him chasing the rumours of sorcery up into the mountains.

.

* * *

If he does find Merlin, at the end of all this, Arthur will of course have to kill him. His father would expect no less. It is not a cheering thought, but still Arthur climbs further into up the mountainside.

There is a dragon ravaging the countryside. It circles Camelot, tracing intent paths of destruction mere hours of flight away from the castle, but comes no closer. It is his father's fault. His father's for keeping the dragon and Merlin for releasing it. Merlin who-

A last revenge, Arthur supposes. For being discovered and for the way Arthur had struck him down when he made the discovery.

Arthur stumbles on the uneven ground. The villagers had looked at him like he was crazy.

"The boy?" one of the men said. Surprised enough for someone to ride into their village declaring himself to be royalty, even before he started asking whether they had seen a dragon and a sorcerer recently.

"Which boy?" he asked.

"A young lad," the farmer said. "The creature was dragging him along with it. Great claw marks in his shirt."

"Poor soul," the women whispered. Mothers, who don't realise that the boy with the messy hair and torn clothes could rip them apart with a thought.

"This way?" Arthur asked and they nodded.

He follows the path, though they beg him to go home and the kingdom is waiting. Guinevere may even be waiting. But Morgana is not.

He does not dare ask them that. If they had seen someone else who should not have been in the forests. Wild-eyed and beautiful, his sister in all but blood. He would be obliged to kill her too and Arthur does not think he has the stomach for that. Gwen would never forgive him. She would never-

Arthur thinks his own land is conspiring against him, pulling his footing away as he thinks of it. Gwen will not forgive him if he strikes Merlin's head from his shoulders either. He has no choice. Merlin made the castle_ shake, _in the name of all. Arthur is used to all manner of strange happenings in Camelot, but he has had nightmares for months of the twist of gold in Merlin's eyes while the stone trembled around them.

Higher up, the ground is harder and there are places where it is melted like glass. He sees gouges in the rock where sharp claws have torn holes in the surface.

And there, high up the cliff-face, there is a cave and the sound of a bellowing roar.

Arthur grits his teeth and prepares for the climb, whatever may await him at the top.

-

* * * *

Merlin is a curled-up ball of pathetic humankind. Arthur turns him over to check if he is already dead or whether that honour will be Arthur's own. His wrists and ankles are tied together with rough rope; there is blood there, and blood on his neck and his forearms.

Merlin opens his eyes, revealing the gold beneath, and says, "Arthur." He turns back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, and closes his eyes again. His breathing is low and regular, as though he might be sleeping.

Arthur doesn't know what he had expected but that was very far from it.

This is when the dragon chooses to return.

Arthur pulls his sword. There is a difference between a dragon high above the castle, and one standing in front of him, blocking the only exit to the cave. And yet Arthur will need to be closer if he is to use the sword.

"Pendragon," the inhuman voice intones. No 'young' this time.

"You must leave the kingdom, or die," Arthur says. "I will not stand by and watch my people be picked off like sheep."

"I believe that is exactly what your father was doing, _little prince_. What makes you so certain you can take a different path?"

"My father drove magic from Camelot. I will not allow you and this sorcerer to-"

The dragon laughs. It is a terrible thing. "Your warlock is the force holding magic from Camelot, child. It is not something for you to allow or disallow. We simply wait for his resolve to falter. And then I shall fly into the heart of your kingdom and take exactly what I please. You have only your father to thank for this."

Arthur takes his chance. He rolls forward, to striking distance, and hopes.

The sword is strong. It pierces between scales, to the soft flesh of the dragon's belly. Arthur is not fool enough to believe it's a killing blow. The dragon's foreclaws scrape along his side and into his chest. Arthur stabs again, below the wing. The dragon screams: a mixture of sentient fury and animal pain. It swipes at Arthur again, knocking him into the wall. And then it flies away.

Arthur runs for the cave's entrance. The dragon is heading for higher ground, deep into the mountains, far away from Camelot's borders. By the time Arthur catches up with it, it will either be dead or ready and waiting for him. He should go back home, and muster an army to be ready for another attack. He knows what he faces now. He is not afraid.

The way down should be easier. If he is lucky, his horse will be where he left it, at the village. Arthur hesitates. He goes to Merlin's side.

"Merlin."

Merlin's eyes open. He takes in the blood on Arthur's sword and his chest. "Arthur," he says again, like the only word he knows.

"Yes. We've established that. Now tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now and be done with it."

Merlin says nothing.

"Beg, at least," Arthur says. "_Try." _He sounds more desperate than he means to. "What did the dragon mean? He said you were keeping the magic away."

"Yes. After-" Merlin chokes. Arthur wonders when he last spoke. The dragon must have bewitched someone to come and tie Merlin up – nothing with claws could have managed that feat. Merlin recovers and says, "Camelot is defended from magic, sire. You can go back there and be safe."

"The _castle_ is safe from magic, so it seems. But the dragon was quite content to ravage these outlying villages. What sort of a-"

"It wasn't content," Merlin says. But he seems unconcerned with Arthur's rising anger. As though Arthur would stay safely in the castle while the kingdom suffered. Even Merlin should know that – he used to know it best of all. Now he sits there in placid silence.

"If I tried to kill you now," Arthur says, "Would you even bother trying to stop me?"

"No," Merlin says. "I couldn't. My lord, I have nothing left."

The last thing Merlin did, after Morgana escaped and he was caught with the dragon, was stand outside the castle and watch. Merlin had freed the dragon. He had screamed at Arthur, trying to explain, and Arthur had knocked him to the ground.

And then, suddenly, Merlin had been at the gates of the castle, outside looking in. Wind had climbed around him and no one could get near. His voice had been like song, rising and falling and forming no words Arthur understood. The walls of Camelot shook; the dragon screamed fury – diving again and again towards the castle but always pulling up short. Merlin had looked up.

Arthur sent guards after him, wave after wave. Eventually he ran there himself, close enough to see the sweat on Merlin's forehead and the suspicion of tears at his eyes. Merlin had opened his mouth and shouted something through the ringing noise of sword clashes and creaking stone. Then he had disappeared into the smoke.

In dreams Arthur sees these scenes often. Different aspects, depending what he is dwelling on while he is trying to fall asleep. Merlin had looked up at the dragon.

Now, Arthur says, "If you- If I am to believe you cast a spell of protection- that you were not in league with the creature… Why are you still alive?"

Merlin looks at him with those unfamiliar glowing eyes and murmurs, "It likes shining things." He slumps into a faint.

Arthur curses and tosses the unconscious man over his shoulder. He heads back to the village.

The horse is still there. Arthur blesses his subjects' honesty (or their fear, he does not know which). They offer him time to rest - food to eat and wine to drink. He refuses the offer; this was a mad endeavour anyway and he does not know what he had expected. He needs to get back to the castle.

Arthur leaves some of his armour behind – it is too distinctive and he doesn't need the extra weight. His horse can easily carry two, when one of them is a half-starved mage, but it will be faster without all the mail.

He bundles Merlin onto the horse in front of him. Merlin's arms are still tied, though Arthur has undone the bonds at his ankles. He loosens the rope at Merlin's wrists enough that he can loop the slack to the saddle. It is not the conventional method of prisoner transport but at least Arthur can keep an eye on him.

Arthur kicks the horse into motion and heads for home.

-

* * * *

They stop for the night in one of the larger villages. It has an inn and Arthur is not recognised there, without the Pendragon crest shining on his armour or his tunic.

He drags Merlin into the inn after him. The woman there looks between them and asks, "This one staying with the horses?"

"Oh no," Arthur says. He pulls at the ties holding Merlin's wrists together. "He's in the room with me."

She betrays a moment of curiosity but this is not the kind of place people go to be questioned. "All right," she says and leads him to a room.

Arthur thinks briefly of how he must look – obviously noble but not obviously royal, pulling a pretty commoner boy behind him on a rope. He's still furious; he doesn't care.

It's a small room, with one uncomfortable bed.

A servant brings a jug of water for them to wash with. Arthur notices Merlin stir a little, before he remembers that his hands are tied.

Arthur nods at the girl. "Wine. And whatever food there is." He hesitates. "Enough for two." Merlin, never exactly brawny, looks as though a strong wing would knock him over. Arthur needs to keep him alive until Camelot.

Arthur washes his hands and face, and then strips out of his shirt to wash some of the dirt and blood from his chest. He tosses the cloth at Merlin, who barely catches it. Merlin makes a vague swipe at his face, washing ghost-white paths of skin clear.

The girl returns with the food. Again Merlin stirs and thinks better of it. Arthur gives him a cup of the wine, some bread, and one of the apples. Merlin blinks at him, still not entirely returned to the world of the waking. He balances the cup carefully in his bound hands, and drinks deeply.

"I could have poisoned that, you know," Arthur says.

Merlin agrees, "Yes." He alternates bites of the bread with the apple, stopping before he is two-thirds through.

Arthur shrugs and eats the rest of the bread. By the time he is finished, Merlin is asleep, sitting curled upright against the stone wall, with his head pillowed on his knees.

Arthur locks the door and goes to bed, clutching the key beneath his pillow.

-

* * * *

When Arthur wakes, Merlin's eyes are open and fixed on him. They are blue today. Merlin whispers, "Oh."

"What?" Arthur asks.

"Arthur."

"Yes. What?"

"You're here."

"I was here yesterday too – you didn't seem half so astounded then."

"I thought I was dreaming," Merlin confesses softly.

Arthur refuses to be moved by such an obvious appeal to sentiment. He gets out of the bed and drags Merlin upright. "We're leaving as soon as I am dressed."

Merlin, of course, is already dressed and continues watching Arthur with those strange eyes while Arthur pulls his shirt and boots on.

They buy some more bread before leaving, and another apple or two.

The sun is shining today the way it has not done for the previous month, summer or no. And Merlin seems marginally more alert, perched on the horse in front of Arthur. He still doesn't speak, but he looks at the hills as they pass through them.

Arthur catches him looking back the way they came and says, "Don't even think about running back there. I'd strike you down before you got ten strides away from me."

"Probably," Merlin says. His long fingers grip in the horse's mane and he falls silent once more.

He does not speak again until they break to eat. "How- Sire. How many days ride are we from Camelot?"

"Three, perhaps. Four. Calculating how long you have to plead for your life? How long for escape?"

"No."

Merlin was never so opaque to him- No. That's not true. Merlin had hidden the most devastating secret in the kingdom from Arthur, all the while playing a friend and a loyal servant. And no one would ever have suspected if it hadn't been for- It is simply that Merlin was once better at hiding his secretive nature than he is now. Arthur supposes he has had no reason to hide for some time. He must have been with the dragon for months, kept in whatever amounted to comfortable captivity when you were dealing with magical creatures.

Arthur withholds the apples, feeling somewhat petty but mostly vindicated. Merlin may be thin but he has clearly been eating _something. _He must have been doing some kind of magic for the dragon in return; he probably broke faith yet again, and that was why Arthur found him in that state.

Merlin doesn't complain when Arthur shoves him back onto the horse; Arthur wonders if all that had been lying too.

-

* * * *

Another inn, another inquisitive look from the owner. Another narrow lumpy bed that Merlin does not pretend to envy him.

He wakes, late in the night, and thinks that Merlin must have woken him. Merlin's eyes are open but he is making no noise. He is just watching Arthur from his place by the wall. "My lord?" he asks.

"What did you-? Did you cry out?"

"No, my lord." There is an uncertain pause.

Arthur asks, "Did I?"

"You- I think perhaps you dreamt."

"I do that often." The light is only the glow of the moon through the window. They have spoken like this before, in the days when Merlin wasn't a traitor and Arthur could pretend that they had time. Arthur says, "Morgana-" He doesn't finish the sentence but that is enough.

"She lives," Merlin says. "I- She lives. I don't know where. But she's alive."

"The day that she- Did you know?"

"I knew she had dreams," Merlin says. "Not the rest. If I had known-"

Arthur waits for _I would have told you._

What he gets is, "I would have helped her."

"You would have _helped her? _In her treachery? In her madness?"

"It shouldn't have gone that far. Wouldn't have if your father hadn't-"

"My father did what he thought was best. He defended the kingdom."

"And you learn from his example." Merlin sighs, and leans back against the wall.

"I-" Arthur doesn't know. Merlin makes everything more complicated than it ought to be. The world shifts around them both until Arthur can't see which way is up, let alone the right way out of this mess.

-

* * * *

They ride hard the next day, and stop to eat near a river. Merlin looks at the water with longing. His hands are tied again, though the gap between them seems to get bigger every time they stop. Arthur should really retie the ropes.

Arthur looks at Merlin's wrists. "Come here," he says.

Merlin stumbles to his side.

"Let me…" Arthur says. "Sit _down, _Merlin." He pushes at the edges of Merlin's trousers, where the skin on his ankles is still rubbed red and bleeding. "Why didn't you…?" he begins.

"What, my lord?" Merlin asks.

"Come on." Arthur eases Merlin's boots off, and then his own. He walks them barefoot to the river. Merlin gasps at the shock of the cold water on his skin.

After a moment, and with a careful look at Arthur, Merlin leans down and bathes his hands as well.

It makes the rope swell up, and when they are done Arthur has to untie them before Merlin loses feeling in his hands entirely. He bandages Merlin's wrists before tying the rope again. He can't have infection setting in before he gets them back to Camelot. Then there can be a trial, and all laws will be observed, and no one will be able to say that Arthur doesn't have his father's judgement.

But today they eat their lunch while dabbling their feet in the cool water. Merlin still doesn't eat a full meal.

Arthur breaks first. "Merlin, what did you _do?_"

"Sorry?"

"With the dragon. Why did it-? What happened?"

"It- I had promised to release it."

Arthur clenches his fists and remembers that striking Merlin had not helped that first time.

Merlin says, "When- It's not good. But it's very old and I needed- I needed its help, when Sigan was attacking. You were going back out there and I needed to know how- I never knew what I was doing, you know. Even when I was saving your life, I never knew- Not everything. And the dragon knew. So I promised. I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have lied."

"It's a _dragon_, sire. A creature of magic. Even if I had lied, I said the words. If I hadn't kept my promise something awful would have happened."

"Something awful did."

"I didn't have anything to do with Morgana. This was all after that. After she was gone and Uther was- It said now was the time. It said if I didn't- And then you found me anyway."

Arthur remembers that very well. How desperately he had wished for any other explanation for this, so soon after losing Morgana to the same fate. How furious he had been. Merlin's pale face and twisting hands; he had never been quick with a lie. He had simply lived one.

"And then you ran," Arthur says.

"You would have killed me."

"Yes. I still might. You _lied_ to me. You put the whole kingdom in jeopardy."

"I gave you everything I had," Merlin says. "I did my best."

"What was the spell you cast? At the end."

Merlin looks at the water. "A protection. To keep everything of magic out of Camelot. With Morgana gone, and the dragon loose, it seemed the safest thing. I wasn't going to be there to- I made you a shield, that's all."

"It's not working as well as it was."

Looking up at him, the thread of gold winding in his eyes, Merlin says, "It's difficult. And the dragon- It wanted me to undo the spell. And I was so tired. I am so- But the walls of Camelot hold it better than the villages. The castle was magic already – it wants you safe. I think it's going to hold there for a while, even after I-"

Merlin lapses into silence and Arthur can think of nothing else to say. He pulls them both away from the water and back towards the horse. They are two days from Camelot now.

-

* * * *

There are two beds in this room. Arthur hadn't asked but he doesn't protest it. They wash and eat without speaking and then climb into the beds.

Merlin cries out this time. Arthur opens his eyes and looks across the narrow gap between the beds. "What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing," Merlin says.

"Nonsense. Now, if you don't- Do you dream?" He has the sudden thought.

"Of course I- Oh. No, not like that. Except when-"

"What?"

"The dragon, sometimes. It speaks in my head. Or it did. But that was just- Gwen," he says. "I dreamt of Gwen."

"Oh."

"Is she all right? She didn't- I mean, I never told her."

"I know. And she was fine the last time I saw her. She was leaving Camelot."

Merlin shivers. "Why would she…? What happened?"

"I told her I was going into the mountains and wasn't coming back until I had killed the dragon and the sorcerer."

"Oh," Merlin says. He pulls the blanket tightly over his body.

The problem with Gwen, Arthur thinks, is that she is too good by far. Too trusting - too _noble - _to be in court. Too willing to risk her own life by defending those who had left her without a second thought.

"She could have been implicated," Arthur says, "You two were always close."

"You would have protected her," Merlin says, nearer to the truth than he realises. Certain, in a way Arthur is of no one in these times. That is more like the Merlin Arthur remembers. He was always too trusting for his own good as well. Too rooted in his belief of Arthur's virtue.

"If I killed you-" Arthur says. "If that is what the law says and I carry it out-"

"It is your father's law," Merlin says. "I would not blame you. I knew the risks."

"So why-?"

In the near dark, staring up at the ceiling, Merlin says it. "Because I- To keep you safe. Because you would have been my king. And- Because I loved you and my place was at your side. There is nothing that matters more than that."

-

* * * *

One last good ride should take them close to home. One more stay in a village, and then a half-day to Camelot. This should be the easy part.

This, naturally, is when they are set upon by bandits. Arthur doesn't think they are assassins, or anything more than common criminals. But there are seven of them and Arthur is only one.

It does cross his mind, leaping from the horse, that if he unbound Merlin's hands he would have a sorcerer as well. But that would be to forget that – however often he has been forgetting lately – Merlin is a dangerous criminal.

Arthur unsheathes his sword. The stretch of his arm reminds him that the dragon wounds on his chest and arm are still healing. It doesn't stop him taking down three of them before he hears the cry.

He spins around at Merlin's call, just managing to turn aside the falling blade with his own. Three of the remaining four surround him.

Merlin speaks – "_Syrthian" – _and they tumble to the ground. Arthur starts to deal with them.

But the fourth – the fourth has a bow, and Merlin in his sights. Arthur waits for Merlin to catch the arrow. He has dreamt enough scenes of their shared history now to know that Merlin must have done this before. He has changed the course of weapons in mid-air, weapons which would have pierced Arthur's heart.

Yet this one finds its mark in Merlin's shoulder. Merlin cries out and slumps over the neck of the horse.

Arthur throws his knife – finding a better mark in the bowman's chest. He doesn't stop to recover it, or to make sure the other six are hurt grievously enough not to follow. Arthur climbs onto the horse and sends it to a gallop.

He tightens his arm around Merlin's chest, trying to hold him on the horse until they can reach the village. Then there will be time to do more than staunch the wound.

"Keep hold on that," Arthur instructs, pressing his hands over Merlin's, over the bleeding. "And for God's sake stop closing your eyes! Just… talk, will you? Normally I can't shut you up."

"Sire-"

Arthur knows that it's not true anymore. They have so little to say to each other now that isn't an accusation or an apology.

Merlin says, "How did you- The dragon. How did you hurt it?"

Arthur can't help his laughter. "You left me a sword, Merlin."

"I- You found Excalibur."

"You _left me_ Excalibur. Don't you remember?"

"I didn't think you heard."

"How on earth did you not recognise it?" Arthur asks. The best sword he's ever owned, on his belt like it belonged there. He hadn't heard Merlin the first time. It had only been in dreams he had picked out the words.

The last things Merlin had said – shouted through the smoke and the noise. _If I don't return. If this fails. Arthur, you must go to the lake. You must go to the lake. I left it there for you. _

"You found it," Merlin says again. "You heard."

Arthur's voice is a little thick. "Yes. I heard you."

_I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry._

-

* * * *

They are intercepted on the way into the inn. Arthur has his hand on Excalibur before he thinks of it.

"Gwen," Merlin mutters.

"What?"

"Merlin!" Gwen cries his name and pushes past Arthur to get to him. She stops when she sees the blood. "Arthur."

"It wasn't me," Arthur says. "So don't look at me like that."

"Sorry," she says, "Sorry." Then she finds that Merlin's hands are tied. "Arthur!"

"That was me," he says. "He's a prisoner, Guinevere. And I should probably arrest you too for that matter. What are you-?"

Merlin chooses this moment to begin topping over. Arthur catches his arm and between the two of them they get Merlin inside and into a room.

Gwen is better at this than Arthur. Her quick fingers undo the ropes and slide Merlin's shirt off. She tears it efficiently into strips and cleans out the wound before wrapping it closed again.

Arthur only asks when she has finished, "Merlin. Can't you do any of that yourself?"

"I was never very good with-" Merlin coughs. "That part. And even the spells I knew, I'm still… Not all here."

"You knocked those men over quick enough."

"That was- immediate. You were in danger."

Gwen smiles. "You men. Everything works fine when it's knocking people down and making things catch fire but when it comes down to…" She smoothes her hand over Merlin's bandages. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Me too," Merlin says and smiles up at her.

"Guinevere," Arthur says, breaking the mood. "Why are you _here? _You left, remember?"

"Yes. I wanted- I thought I could find Morgana. And you were-"

"I know," Arthur says. "And- Did you find her?"

"No."

Arthur doesn't know how to feel about that. Gwen sighs and tucks her hand into his. He squeezes it gratefully but doesn't say anything.

She says, "I was in one of the villages and somehow word had got out that you were returning. Someone claimed to know someone who… that sort of thing. And I thought that you would come this way."

"You know me well," Arthur says.

"Arthur," she says, "What are you going to…? You can't be-?"

"I don't know," he says and keeps his gaze on Merlin.

Merlin seems to have fallen asleep on the bed. Arthur gives Gwen the second one and rolls out a blanket on the floor. Tomorrow they will reach Camelot, so anyway he does not expect to sleep tonight.

-

* * * *

The castle will be in sight when they get over the next hill. Merlin says, "Stop."

He is still on Arthur's horse, though Gwen is riding another and it would make more sense for him to share hers. Arthur had said that he still needed to guard Merlin, never mind that none of them had mentioned retying his hands. Never mind that Arthur had not hesitated to give Merlin one of his shirts against the cold. Arthur supposes it doesn't make much difference – Merlin could have broken the ties when he wanted. He had stayed in them because Arthur had put him there.

"What, Merlin?" Arthur asks.

"I can't go much farther," Merlin says. "Not without breaking the spell. Sire, if you just want to- If you want an execution you're going to have to bring your father here. I won't break the spell just so you can burn me in the town for all to see. I want you safe."

Arthur is silent.

Gwen comes up beside them and says, "Merlin…"

"My father is dead," Arthur says. "He died a week before I rode out to stop the dragon."

Merlin's eyes are wide. He really doesn't dream in prophecy. He says, "My lord-"

"There may be a civil war," Arthur says. "The nobles do not believe I am- They fear that our neighbours will think Camelot is weakened. When I left they were threatening to appoint a regent. As if I were a child."

"Sire…"

Arthur says, "I had no plans beyond this. To stop the dragon and- I didn't know it then. But I suppose I planned to bring you back to Camelot. I don't know what comes next."

He rides over the hill and Camelot comes into view. There is a circle over the fields around the castle. When they get closer Arthur can pick out the shapes. Magical creatures, being kept out by Merlin's spell. But drawn to it as it shrinks.

Merlin slides off the horse and stands on Camelot's earth. He raises his hand and shouts. The creatures flee, all at once. Terrified, Arthur thinks. Or reassured of something. That was a unicorn, galloping back into the forest.

Merlin stumbles on nothing and Arthur catches him. Gwen gets off her horse and looks at them both. "Merlin?"

"I'm fine. Just dizzy. It's-"

"Merlin," Arthur says. "You're coming into Camelot. Break the spell."

"What if…?"

"We can deal with them as they come. This is killing you. Break the spell."

They walk down the hillside, and through the gates of Camelot.

-

* * * *

They are fighting in the council chambers. About the succession – couldn't be more obvious if they tried, with the crown on the centre of the table.

Merlin watches the scene with an expression of confusion.

The nobles turn to look at them. Arthur doesn't look down, but he is conscious of how they must look. Arthur – bedraggled in a bloody shirt because Merlin is wearing his spare. Merlin – drowning in the borrowed shirt, still rubbing nervously at his abraded wrists. Gwen is the only one who might pull off normality.

Merlin casts one, still nervous, look at Arthur. And then he walks the three of them forward.

The candles light, the drapes fall. Only Arthur can feel the death-grip Merlin has on his arm.

Merlin says, "King Arthur and Queen Guinevere." One of the noblemen tries to protest; there is a terrible roar outside. It's probably the dragon, or something else that Merlin has been holding back with sheer force of will for months now. But the effect is to silence the others in the room. They think Merlin is controlling the creatures; just give them time, Arthur thinks.

Merlin looks at the crown and it starts to float towards them, high above everyone else's heads. It's all terribly impressive except that Merlin's fingers are leaving bruises now so all Arthur can think is _please don't drop the crown, please don't drop the crown._

But it lands, featherlike, in Merlin's hands. He kneels in front of Arthur (the last time he did that he was begging) and says, "My lord." It's quiet, somehow, though it's heard all through the hall.

"Get up," Arthur hisses, pulling at Merlin's elbow.

Merlin frowns at him and rises. He nods his head down a little in a signal.

Arthur gets the message and leans his head down. Merlin settles the crown upon it.

"King Arthur," Merlin says softly.

"The king," Guinevere calls, and her voice is suddenly a chorus.

Everything else is just words. Someone will probably demand a real ceremony later, and they'll almost certainly want him to actually _marry _Guinevere. But those things aren't important right now. The symbolic moment was here: Arthur's sorcerer kneeling before him to give him the crown, and the queen by his side. The blood of the dragon still marking the hilt of his sword.

Arthur walks to the end of the room, with Merlin at one side and Guinevere on the other. He wants- Merlin tugs on his arm.

Merlin whispers, "I think I can find Morgana. That is- If you-"

Arthur is clearly not a seer but he still knows this will most likely prove a terrible idea. He keeps walking – long strides neither Guinevere nor Merlin can quite match – and then says, "Do it."

The chair is (his father's/too high/too much alone) the centre of three. Arthur didn't notice that happening.

He sits, looks down the table at his inherited court, and sighs. "What's the first thing?"

After a few minutes he notices the shifts. Merlin doesn't sit in his chair – he leans on the back of it, by Arthur's shoulder. Gwen is sitting, however uncomfortably, with her chin on her hand, making notes in her head. Arthur snatches at her other hand, suddenly afraid. She smiles at him, and turns her small hand palm upwards.

"Sire?" Merlin whispers. "Arthur? Is everything all right?"

"No," Arthur says. "So let's make it right."

.

* * *

FIN


End file.
